His Brother
by Riley Lee
Summary: Grim!verse. George Samuel Kirk Jr., world has just turned upside down. His father has died and he had a new baby brother. But his dad isn't as gone as everyone else think he is and Grim Reapers are just wont leave his family alone.
1. His Brother's Grim

Dirty blond hair a few shades away from being light brown shifted ever so slightly as a child of five stood on his tippy toes and plastered his hands up against the glass. His gazed fixated firmly on what lay beyond his reach and his yearning only grew. He was so close, yet so very far away from his current desire and he wanted so badly to be on the other side of the glass. He knew he was being rude, ignoring his mother who had finally came home after a six month mission, but his mother was ignoring him too. Well, at the moment at least, she was currently too busy talking to the other adults about "grownup stuff" and had shooed him away.

The small child was very disappointed that his mother wasn't paying him any attention, until he caught sight of exactly what he wanted in the first place. The moment hazel and blue locked for the first time, George Samuel Kirk knew there was _not_ going to be anything in the world that would keep him from his new little brother. Well, nothing but a piece of glass it would seem. George remembered vividly the night his father told him he was going to have a little brother or sister, his dad had been so happy and the joy was contagious. The two of them had gotten up extra early the next morning to make his mother breakfast in bed; actually, his dad did most of the cooking, he just helped when he could.

His mother, Winona, was very grateful for their hard work; nevertheless, she chastised he husband for getting his hopes up because she wasn't quite sure if she was pregnant or not. The test she had taken had come back with confusing results and she was going to go see the doctor later in the month. Not that her contradictions had the two Kirk males any less jovial and the radiant smile on her own face disagree with her own words. From there on, his father was always talking about what was going to happen with the new baby when he or she finally came. That there were going to be changes and just because he wasn't going to be an only child anymore didn't mean he was any less loved than he was before. In all actuality, he would be loved even more than he was now, he would have the love of his new sibling in addition to the love of his parents.

George had just started to understand what having a new baby in the house meant, when his mother had come home from the doctor's and they had confirmed there was not going to be any new additions to the Kirk family. He was not going to have a baby brother he had been hoping for (not that he minded a sister, but he really wanted a little brother). Disappointment struck the household and the worst of it came not even a day later when his parents were both assigned a six month mission on the USS _Kelvin _to chart stars close to the Federation-Klingon border. Both his parents had promised him the six months they were gone he was going to be fine with his grandparents and before he knew it, they would be back.

The first month with his Grandfather Tiberius and Grandmother Lilith was okay, he had school to occupy his time and he could run around the Kirk family farm, but he missed his mother and father. George got to at least see them through videomail, but it wasn't the same. He could only listen to prerecorded messages and he didn't get to really chat with either of his parents. The boy was depressed and in a slump after his short dreams of having a baby brother disappear alongside with having his parents leave him within a single week. If his mother had been pregnant, then she could have asked for maternal leave and she could have at least been there for him. However, his depressing attitude changed on his first long distance comm with his parents a month and a half into their six month mission. His mother was in fact pregnant (none of the doctors could figure out why the tests had come back negative in the first place, not with the technology in this day and age) and he had a sibling on the way.

Since then, time still seemed to drag on, but for a whole different reason. George couldn't wait to have his parents back home, which meant the baby would be coming soon after they arrived. The doctors had said the baby should be born somewhere in the middle of March and his parents should arrive home at the beginning of February. Therefore, they had only a month to prepare for the baby's arrival. His mother had stated straight out that they needed to get a bigger house and she wanted something close to her father's place, Grandfather James. His father didn't look happy about that, but with the reminder of Grandmother Rajani having passed away recently and a not so discrete glare had the man shutting up. George always found in funny how much power his mother had over his father and this time was no different.

Then the unthinkable happened. He had been helping Grandpa Tiberius polish the '65 Chevy Corvette which had been passed down to his father (and would eventual be passed down to him one day), when his grandmother came running out of the house. Her old bulky PADD clenched tightly in her white wrinkled hands and tears streaming down her face. It was then, for the first time that George first realized how old his grandparents truly were, their real age showing over the grief and horror they felt. He himself had run into the tall steal farmhouse and flipped on the aged holoscreen to prove what he had read on the PADD to be a mistake, to be wrong. However, it was all over the news. The USS _Kelvin_ had been destroyed, his dad–George Samuel Kirk, Sr.–killed saving the lives of over eight hundred crew members.

His little brother, James Tiberius Kirk, just happened to be one of them and he lay only inches away from him in the glass enclosure. Being born three months premature and exposed to copious amounts of radiation from space had him teetering on death's doorstep. George just wished with all of his might that his brother wouldn't die, not after their father did everything in his power to make sure he lived.

"Don't worry Junior; he's going to make it. I'm sure of it, he is a Kirk after all," the familiar male's voice spoke just to the right of the blond's ear, letting George know he wasn't so slight in his pleas. "And it will take a lot more than a little space radiation to kill any of us."

For a brief moment, George let his eyes stray to the right without moving his head away from the squirming form of his baby brother and looked at the tall lanky man kneeling by his side. The man had hair a few shades darker than his own–making his hair a light brown–cut short while the bangs were spiked up. He wore a tightly fitted blue shirt with black pants and a belt that had a communicator latched on to its side. In other words, a regulation Starfleet uniform of a Lieutenant Commander judging by the one thick and one thin strip bands on the long sleeve cuffs. Even though he hadn't been able to see the man's eyes, the five year old knew they were blue; almost the same exact vibrant blue as his brother's eyes.

George didn't need to see his father's eyes to know what color they were; he had memorized the color long ago. Not even death could change the color of those sky blue eyes.

"You promise?" George asked in a whisper, trying not to draw any attention to himself. He didn't want to go back to the psychiatrist his mother had sent him to. The man had just written off what he had said as an overactive imagination of a little kid and the "people" his mom had seen him talking to were just imaginary friends. Not once had the psychiatrist believed him when he told the guy he could see ghosts, all it was just delusions of a four year old. Thankfully, his dad had talked his mother out of sending him back there (he may love his mother very much, but she was a scientist first and foremost. She didn't believe in anything that wasn't tangible and could be measured). Better yet, his dad believed in him when he told him he was seeing ghost and it wasn't his imagination. His dad had gone one step further by taking him to get an ESP test done. A test he had tested off the charts on. Since then, he had kept his abilities a secret from everyone, except for his father.

"I promised to come back, didn't I?" This time, George took the time to turn his head and give his father the look that his mother used on him. It wasn't as effective as his mom's though, not when his father just laughed at him which caused him to pout. Although, he got a better look at his father and had to admit to himself that his father's ghost didn't look as beat up as he first imagined him to be. Actually, the man had no wounds to speak of on his body translucent body. "I promised to return and I kept my promise. It may not have been how either of us wanted me to come back, but I came back."

"I know," George said disappointedly, his gaze going back to the baby on the other side of the glass. He didn't let his eyes stray away from his baby brother this time, taking in every detail. All the wires and tubes and needles attached to his small form made it impossible for a blanket to be placed on the tiny figure without disturbing one of the many things keeping him alive.

"Worrying about little guy isn't something a child such as yourself should be worrying about, Junior," his dad said. He felt his father ruffle his hair in reassurance, although the once physical gesture now felt like a breeze ruffling his hair more than anything else now.

Looking up, hazel eyes looked passed the glass container holding his brother and through the other side to the looming form. The figure wore black ropes that reminded him somewhat of the Vulcan elders he had seen in his school PADDs, but the face couldn't be seen through the darkness of the hood and only the figure's bony hands could be seen under the ropes. Some kind of ancient time piece, an hourglass if he remembered correctly from his history class, and the way that the figure's feet were a half inch above the floor gave him all the information he needed to know what the being in front of him was.

"I know. I just can't help it." George didn't know if his dad could see the figure like he could, even if the man was dead, he just hoped that the sands in the hourglass didn't run out anytime soon. He didn't want the Grim Reaper to take his baby brother, his little Jimmy, any time soon.

* * *

First installment of JimmyGrim!verse. I think this fic will be a lot of little snippets of the young Kirk brothers' lives more than anything for the first couple of chapters. All from Sam's third person point of view.


	2. Grandfather James's Grim

George sat on the floor a few away from Jimmy, encouraging and praising the little baby as the tyke whined and grunted his displeasure. He wanted to get to his brother, but he couldn't. The elder Kirk sibling wasn't close enough for his chubby little figures to grab onto. Blue eyes looked calculating at George before looking at the space between the two. It took Jimmy all of two seconds to push himself up onto his hands and knees, a gesture the young tyke had done countless times before; however, when he shakily put one hand forward, the gesture became new. The other hand went even farther than the first tiny hand and it took the infant a second to gain his bearings before he moved his leg forward.

Almost ten minutes later, George's voice was a bit hoarse from cheering Jimmy on but it was worth it. His brother had crawled across the floor for the first time and had done it all by himself, no help from him whatsoever. His brother even seemed to be proud of himself, seeing as he sat in front of him, smiling and giggling as he clapped his hands together in utter enjoyment and babbling in baby gibberish. The tuff of blond hair on Jimmy's head gently swayed in the nonexistent breeze, but only George could see his father ruffling his brother's hair in excitement.

"Did we get, did we get it?" George asked enthusiastically, referring to the PADD sent on record a few feet away. The whole time during the sibling bonding, his father had been situated behind the PADD making sure the electronic device caught ever moment of the special moment. Not that he could do anything if the miniature computer did stop recording halfway through; he was a ghost after all and there was not much he could do. Watching and zephyr touches–as George had dubbed his father's contact–were the extent of the lingering soul's capabilities.

"Yeah, we got it, Junior," the brunet replied, tousling his oldest son's hair as the boy ran by him and grabbed the PADD. George paid his father no heed as hastily shut off the recording mechanism and rewound the device before playing it. The smile on the child's lips growing even bigger as he watched himself and the six month old infant on the screen, the little tyke was awkward for the first few moments before he started crawling for the first time was all caught in perfect clarity. "You gonna send that to your grandma? She was disappointed on your last visit when Jimmy looked like he was about to crawl but sat down instead."

"I'm already on it. Grams promised me a dozen of whatever cookies I wanted if I sent her the video," George explained, the stylus in his hands tapping a few times on the screen. A few beeps and a ping later, the video message was sent. Sliding the small stylus into the compartment on the PADD, the boy set the device down and looked over at his brother, who was currently chewing on one of his rubber starship shape toys. "I think he's hungry, again."

At the mention of food, a growl from his own stomach could be heard, causing his father burst out in laughter and a flush of red to cover his cheeks. "I think you both are. Com'on, let's go get you guys something to eat."

Nodding his head in agreement, George carefully gathered up Jimmy in his arms–just like Grandma Lily had shown him how to when little Jimmy was finally let out of the hospital–before making his way to the kitchen. Although, it was a challenge just to get to the kitchen, his brother keep on struggling and fighting his hold and making a lot of fussing noises. His dad had said the boy was going through teething and was the reasoning for the infant's irritability. George just hoped he wouldn't be this irritable for much longer. One week was enough, two weeks would be agony.

Walking into the spacious kitchen, George smile faltered for a second when he saw his mother was cooking what appeared to be some kind of soup. The smell made his stomach grumble yet again; only this time, it was more in repulsion than in hunger. He was not going to be eating whatever the soup was. He loved his mother dearly, but she was no cook. Replicator food tasted better than anything she cooked by at least a factor of five, which was definitely saying something, seeing as their replicator was over a decade old.

"Momma, guess what, guess what!" George all but shouted out his joy, struggling with his grip around his brother to make sure the toddler didn't fall. "Jimmy crawled! And he did it all by himself. I didn't help him at all. Grandma Lily said babies usually don't crawl for a couple more months, but Jimmy did. I got it on my PADD and everything, so you can see."

"George, not now, momma's busy making Grandpa James his evening meal," his mother said, not even once turning away from the stove.

"Momma-."

"George, not now, I'm busy," his mother snapped, turning long enough to give him a disappointed look before going back to her cooking.

All he was going to say was Jimmy was hungry and he wanted to eat too. He hadn't done anything to warrant the kind of reaction he had received and neither had he miss that his mother had turned in such a way that little Jimmy was not in her line of sight. George didn't need to turn to see he wore a frown which mirrored the one on his father's face. He had seen it enough in the past few months and had started to mimic his father; like father, like son.

He couldn't pinpoint when it began, but he just recently started to become aware of the fact his mother tried not to look at her youngest son unless she absolutely had to and even then, her eyes would be constantly shifting. He remembered his mother constantly holding Jimmy in the hospital when the doctors finally allowed him to come out of the glass container, which was a little after the Grim Reaper finally disappeared. However, after the month's stay in the hospital, things got a little bit blurry in his memory. There was so much going on; there was his father's funeral and the memorial Starfleet dedicated to George Samuel Kirk Sr., and then there were all the people stopping by the Kirk family farm (where they had been staying at the time) giving their well wishes and helping out anyway they could. After that, it was the move to Grandpa James's house. His mother wanted to be closer to her father and make sure he was properly taken care of.

He had actually been thrilled to move in with Grandpa James, he remembered all the fun visits with his mother's parents. That was back before Grandma Rajani died and as the older Kirk sibling had come to figure out rather quickly, things were not the same. Grandpa James was just a shell of the man he use to be. The fun loving man who had always been up for a new adventure through the fields of Iowa was no longer there. There was only an elder man who hardly spoke and if it wasn't for his mother, the man wouldn't have moved much less done anything else. All of his mother's attention was fixated solely on his grandfather and Jimmy's care was slowly being pushed aside. George didn't understand it, he knew his mother loved him and care for him. The only problem was she didn't seem to feel the same way towards Jimmy.

Setting his brother down into the little hoverchair and pressed the little button on the side that would lift the chair up to hover the tyke right in front of the table, George made his way over to the replicator. Reaching for one of the many mini multicolored chips on the counter, the little boy expertly ejected the disk already in the replicator and replaced it with the one currently in his hands. A few seconds later, the boy had an old fashion hamburger and french-fries waiting to be eaten. He was about to insert the mini white chip which contained the milk formula for Jimmy, when his father's voice stopped him.

"Junior, how many times has Jimmy eaten today?" The question was simple enough, so George did not need to actually say anything. He just used his fingers to indicate the eight bottles of milk his brother had consumed since waking up this morning. "It might be best if you were to try and give him a small bowl of applesauce."

"Mm-hm," the boy hummed to show is acknowledgement and switched out the white chip for a yellow one.

Once both meals were prepared, George made sure to place Jimmy's applesauce out of reach and climbed up into his own chair. The boy knew better than to let anything that stained within his brother's grabby little hands' reach; he lost his favorite shirt the first time it had happened. Meals were never dull at least and this meal was no different. Jimmy liked to get more food on himself and his older brother than in him. When all was said and done, they were both a mess, which was exactly what his mother found when she finally finished cooking and turned around.

George had eaten his entire hamburger and most of his french-fries, but Jimmy had eaten about half of his small serving of applesauce. He had been thrilled with the new food and consumed the first potion with no problem. Sadly, the novelty had worn off and before George could realize it, they were both covered in the rest of the toddler's meal.

"George Samuel Kirk Junior, what did you do?" his mother's bellow echoed around the kitchen. The boy didn't know what to say, his hazel eyes just widened in fright and uneasiness. His mother had never been _this_ mad at him for something and it wasn't as if either one of them had made a real mess. Clothes could be washed and the table clean; nothing was unrepairable. Quite frankly, he was scared. He didn't like this side of his mother.

"I was just feeding Jimmy," the young boy tried to explain what had taken place. "He was hungry and…and you were busy with Grandpa James's food and I…I was just trying to help."

"Well don't," the reply was sharp and harsh; the very tone had tears welling up in hazel eyes. "Look what you've done –"

George stared wide eyed and open mouthed, tears running down his face but he couldn't care. His little brother had started to scream and cry is displeasure halfway through his mother's rant and when the woman's full attention turned towards the baby, she suddenly stopped dead. He didn't know what his mother saw which made tears stream down his face, but George saw his father trying his best to comfort the screaming toddler who couldn't even feel his touch. The next second, his mother was back at the stove, her back facing away and her voice strained.

"Take your brother and go get cleaned up. I don't want to see you down here until you're presentable."

"Yes ma'am," the sullen boy mumbled, head hanging low as he slipped off his chair. He never once looked at his mother as he pulled the sniffling Jimmy out of his hoverchair and carried him to the nearest bathroom. While the young boy took his time cleaning himself and his brother up, his father murmured words of love and reassurance to calm the boy's beating heart. But what he needed more than anything, was the reassurance of physical contact; a hug which his father could never again give him. All that the man could give him were words and they didn't do any good; George was too worked up over his mother's actions.

And over the appearance of the shadowy form of the Grim Reaper. That night, the Grim Reaper reaped the soul of James R. Crawford.

* * *

This is going to be difficult, because I want to have a Grim Reaper in every chapter and more or less, there is going to be a lot of time jumps.

Hope you all like, until next time.

Riley Lee


	3. Grandpa Tiberius's Grim

"Sa-am Mee," Jimmy cried, "Sa-am Mee! Wann Sa-am Mee."

Said boy couldn't help but smile as he made his way towards the old metal farmhouse. He could imagine in perfect detail what was causing his brother to cry out for him, Jimmy was contained in an old style fenced playpen. Ever since his little brother learned to walk, he had been a menace and got into everything. When he had said something of the sort to Grandma Lily, she had only laughed and told him he had been much worse as a tyke. His father stood nodding his head in agreement the whole time, which only got him to blush in embarrassment. Thankfully, not too long later, all the teasing bestowed upon him by his grandmother and father for things he had done as a kid were forgotten when Jimmy spoke his first word.

"Sa-am MeE!" The grin on his mouth just widened when he heard his brother yell even louder for him. He couldn't believe the little guy's first word would be a mangled version of his name. How the little guy even managed to learn his middle name was still a mystery to him and everyone else, but he was now and would forever be Jimmy's Sammy.

"SA-am MEE! Wann." When the one year old Jimmy's demands were not met fast enough for his liking, the tyke's cries from inside the Kirk farmhouse just became even louder. That was another thing.

After his Grandfather James died, his mother was even a worse state than before. With no one to take care of, she didn't know what to do with herself. It was as if taking care of Grandfather James was the only thing that kept her going. Nothing he did seem to get through to her anymore. She spent most of her time watching old homeholos which mainly featured his father. Living in Grandfather James's house wasn't helping at all either and so it was a blessing when Grandfather Tiberius and Grandmother Lilith offered his mother to come and live with them. Him and Jimmy would stay with their grandparents while their mother would go off to work, to keep herself occupied; to keep herself sane.

"It's alright Jimmy. I'm here," Sam said, walking through the front door.

"Welcome home, Junior," came the ever present voice of his father, who was lounging on the couch next to the playpen, the moment the door closed.

"Hi Daddy," the boy replied, giving him a wide, toothless grin. However, he soon realized his mistake and quickly closed his mouth. His father didn't seem to notice the sudden change in his son, but he did realize something was wrong. He didn't get the chance to say anything. Not with Sam tossing his shoulder-bag on the nearest available piece of furniture and immediately heading to the blond haired tyke trying to climb his way out of the two foot high fencing.

Big blue eyes watched his older brother's every move and chubby little hands reached up in the universal gesture of wanting to be picked up. "Sorry Jimmy, you're getting too big for me to carry."

"Sa-am Mee," the baby whined, eyes glistening as he gave the elder Kirk sibling his best puppy dog eyes. Sam had slowly become immune to those eyes, but not there were sometimes he would break down and cave in to whatever the toddler wanted. This was not one of those times.

Instead, Sam unlatched the little gate and walked behind the little tyke. Taking both of the tiny but chubby hands into his own, he took a step forward, forcing Jimmy take a couple of steps in front of him. This had become somewhat a ritual between the two brothers when Sam started to have trouble lifting the constantly squirming toddler. Not to mention, it helped build up the muscles in Jimmy's legs and with each day that passed by, he became more stable on his own two legs and fell down far less when he was walking on his own.

Together, the two of them slowly made their way into the small, but homely kitchen. Their father followed behind them with a contemplative look on his face, as if he was trying to figure out a complex matter-antimatter equation. A look which Sam tried to ignore; instead, he focused on the smell of cookies baking he had been assaulted with immediately after entering the house. Reaching the kitchen, he was not surprised when he saw the freshly baked chocolate chip cookies coming out of the oven.

"Georgie, you're home just in time," the willowy woman stated, placing the tray of cookies on the windowsill to cool. "How was your first day back to school after the New Years?" A distressed look must have passed over his face, because he didn't even get a chance to answer. "That good, huh? Why don't you sit down and tell Grams all about it now."

"It wasn't that bad, Grandma Lily," Sam tried to reassure his grandmother, his eyes focused on Jimmy when he tried to walk away. However, it was only his light grip on the tyke's hands that kept him from going anywhere. He didn't have a reason not to let Jimmy go, the little boy was safe in the kitchen with him and his grandmother present. Yet, Sam felt more at ease at having this conversation with Jimmy in his reach.

"Not that bad," the elder woman mused. "Then pray tell, what happened to your front tooth? I know you had all of your teeth when you left for school this morning."

"Junior…," the stern warning from his father in his command voice had Sam knowing that he couldn't hide anything further. He really didn't want to hide anything from his father or his grandmother for that matter, yet, he knew it was better this way. The one year anniversary of his father's death was only a few days ago, during their winter break, and the man was hit hard when he came to the crashing realization that he _was_ dead. His father's ghost had stayed with his family, trying to be the father he was, but–other than his oldest son–no one could see him. Even days later, he was reeling in the new comprehension.

"Sa-am Mee?" the tiny voice brought him out of his thoughts.

"There was a fight at school and I might have been involved," Sam mumbled under his breath, hoping neither his grandmother nor father heard exactly what he said.

"And how _might have_ you been involved?" his grandmother asked, a stern look in her eyes, which was a lot better than the look his father was giving him. If he had been a Starfleet officer, Sam swore he would already been in the brig.

Steadying himself for what he knew was about to transpire with his next declaration. Sam made sure to look his grandmother in the eyes. "I started it."

The twin exclamations of disbelieve rang in his ears. The sudden sound startling Jimmy so much that he lost his balance on his feet and if it weren't for Sam's hold on the toddler, he would have fallen. As it was, the loudness had the little tyke crying. Not his usually screams and bawls of ear piercing noise, but silent tears which steadily streamed down his face. Not that anyone took notice; all eyes were on the determined six year old child.

"Some of the other kids were saying things…nasty things about Daddy, all because the new teacher was asking me if I was okay all day because of the anniversary of Daddy's death," Sam expounded further and the adults knew right away what had gone on. The new teacher at Riverside Elementary was an extremely young little thing straight out of school herself and most of the boys had a crush on her. By singling out Sam, she had made him a target for the other boys' jealousy and kids were not known for playing nice. "And that's when I hit one of them."

_They hit back_ went unspoken; his missing front tooth said it for him. By this time, his own silent tears started to cascade down his cheeks. He didn't understand why he was crying himself; his tears may have been because of him bottling everything up inside for the last year or the tears could have been from the rotten day he was having. Either way, he couldn't stop the salty drops of water from escaping the confines of his eyes.

"Oh, Georgie," his grandmother sighed, walking over to his side and enveloped both him and Jimmy into a big hug. "It's okay. Disregard anything those boys said. Your dad died a hero, saving many, many lives; including little Jimmy's. Never doubt that."

"I don't," the boy said, his eyes locking onto his father's from beneath his grandmother's hug. "I know he died a hero…but I still miss him. I know he's watching over us and all, but I miss having him here-_here_."

"I miss being with you too, Junior," his father said, emotions heavy in his own voice. The man's translucent body only a few feet away from them and he didn't seem to knowing what to do with himself. However, he soon joined in on the hug, his body feeling like a soft breeze when he came into contact with Sam. "I know it's not the same with me being…being a _ghost_ and all. But I will always be right here with you. Whenever you need me, I'll be here."

"I miss him too," Grandma Lily tried to console him.

"Thank you." Sam wasn't relatively sure who exactly he was thanking, either way, he felt better. He didn't know long they all stood there, letting tears soak into cotton fabric and just holding on to each other, but each of them needed it.

The moment was finally interrupted by little Jimmy's impatience. "Wann. Wann coo'ie."

The Kirks broke apart with a slight chuckle and bittersweet smiles.

"Alright now, let me get my two favorite grandsons their afternoon snack," Grandma Lily said, whipping away he remnants of her tears. "Grandpa Tiberius should be back from the market any minute now and then all the cookies will be gone. Let's eat up."

The rest of the afternoon was spent in semi-silence. Sam started his homework for the week, taking longer than was needed because he refused to ask his grandmother or father for help with the mathematics portion which he couldn't comprehend. Instead, the boy used one of the old PADDs lying around the house and looked up a teaching tutorial and went from there. His dad standing over him nodding his head for every right problem he got, but other than that, not saying a single word. Little Jimmy went down for his nap, since the toddler refused to go to sleep until Sam had returned home while the boy's grandmother worked on preparing dinner.

As the day slowly ticked forward, Sam started to notice Grandma Lily was looking at the clock more and more frequently. The frown on her face deepening with each passing moment and her wrinkles become more predominant as the hour got later and later. When it began to reach four o'clock and Grandpa Tiberius still hadn't shown up, then he also began to worry. His grandfather was never this late coming back from market days; he had usually sold all of their fresh crops by two or three o' clock in the afternoon and would have already been on his way back to the farm. Grandpa Tiberius liked the simple life away from the towns and all of the new "technogizmos" as he liked to call them. He didn't stay in town for long when he didn't have to.

The moment the comm rang, Sam knew something was wrong. He didn't need to hear his grandmother talk to whoever was on the other end of the line to know what had happened. The words cardiac arrest didn't even make it to his ears. He just had to look up to see the sad face of Grandpa Tiberius looking around the farmhouse one more time before being escorted away by the ever familiar Grim Reaper.

"Bye Grandpa Tiberius…I love you," Sam whispered the words. Watching the translucent form slowly fade to nothing and with only one more tear to shed that night, the boy went back to his homework.

* * *

I don't own anything except for the plot, please don't take what I do have. Oh, and thanks goes out to my only reviewer, Mikazuki Hime, thanks for reviewing!

Riley Lee


	4. His Brother's Grim II

Sam sat at his old fashion hardwood desk, a small lamp turned on the lowest setting illuminating his school PADD in the dead of night. The stylus in his hand frantically scratching at the surface screen as he tried to finish up his last essay of the year, an essay he should have finished three days ago. However, the teacher had excused both his absents from school and the missing homework when news got out of why he wasn't at school for the last week. Sam had to cringe at living in a small town such as Riverside for the very reason, there was no privacy whatsoever. It was none of their business what went on in at the Kirk farm, they had no right butting into his life and he absolutely _hated_ the looks of pity everyone at school was giving him. The damn teacher had even tried to send him to talk to the councilor to _help_ him. The only help he need was in getting this essay done by tomorrow or else he wouldn't pass the sixth grade.

A strangled snort crossed with a growl escaped his lips as he continued to work on his essay. "Why don't people mind their own fucking business?"

The chilly wind smacking the back of his head had the boy freezing in the middle of his essay. "Language Junior, language."

"But Dad, those stupid _assholes_ wanted me to talk about what had happened. Telling me it wasn't my fault. For hell's sake, I know it wasn't my fault! Can't they just leave me the _hell_ of alone?" Sam snapped, glaring towards his father.

"That still doesn't give you the right to cuss like a Starfleet officer," his father said evenly, the whole stern-fatherly pose in full swing. The very look had the boy deflating under the posture with only one glance. His shoulders slumped and a large sigh had Sam already calming down. "They're just trying to help you coop with your emotions. Not all kids can see death like you can, they don't learn from an early age what death is. None of them understand, but they still want to help. You've got to start letting people in, Junior."

For a few seconds, all that was heard was the scratching of the stylus on the PADD before even that faded away into nothing. "I've tried that, remember? Everyone only wanted to be my friend because I was _your_ son. Not because I'm me. The kids at school don't care about me-myself, they only care about the popularity it will bring them if they become my friend."

"Junior," his father's voice made him turn in his swivel chair, looking his father straight into faded blue eyes. The young man tried to find the words to say in order to comfort his son, but this wasn't something he ever had to deal with in his short life. However, Sam seemed to read what he was still trying to find the words for just by looking in his eyes.

"I know, Dad," the blond grinned the same grin he had seen a thousand times on the ghost before him. It was a sad bittersweet grin, yet hope still lingered within. "I just gotta live with it."

The father and son talked for another hour or so, while Sam tried to finish his essay. Very rarely could they converse like they were, in fear of being spotted by someone else. Under the cover of the night, while everyone else was sleeping, there was no fear of getting caught. There was just father and son bonding moments that would never be allowed to see the light of day. Sam always thought these moments were better than nothing, and he wouldn't want to give them up, even if people started to think he had gone crazy after all this time.

It was just passing midnight when a creek from the room next to his stopped Sam mid rant. In the blink of an eye, the boy's full attention was on the door separating the two rooms from one another. The ancient doorknob slowly turned with a groan of the tumblers and a squeak from the hinges as the door swung open. Little Jimmy stood in the doorway, clad in his little blue footed pajamas and black starred blanket dragging behind him. His wheat blond hair was dull while his blue eyes popped out from sickly grey skin. Tiny white hands rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with one hand as the other tried to cover up the large yawn with the blanket.

"Jimmy, what are you doing up? You should be sleeping," Sam expressed his concerning as the boy wobbled into the room. The elder Kirk brother couldn't help but glare at the Grim Reaper following right behind his little brother.

"I can't shleep," the five year old got out between yawns. The tiredness in his eyes spoke volumes, yet at the same time, terror lingered at the front of blue eyes as well. "I 'ad a ni'tmare."

Sam couldn't blame the boy, after the week he had gone through and how much medicine had been pumped into his system, nightmares were not uncommon. Jimmy's immune system was already messed up with all the space radiation he had been exposed to as an infant, so his body was solely unprepared when he was exposed to vegan choriomeningitis by a fellow classmate. He had about died from the infectious disease and spent three days in ICU before moving to an isolated room. Sam had about died when he saw the Grim Reaper hovering over Jimmy while he was in the ICU. He had thought with the boy's release from the hospital two nights ago, the Grim Reaper would go away, but the death's reaper stayed.

"He still there?" his father's voice snapped Sam out of his glaring at the Grim Reaper. Sam just nodded his head, having to come to know that his father, while he could see other ghosts, could not see the collectors of souls. It would seem, ghost could only see their own reapers and a person only saw them once in their whole life, when they died.

"You want to sleep with me then? I'm just finished my essay." Sam asked, standing up and sweeping the teetering boy into his arms. The kid immediately wrapped his own arms around his brother's neck and nestled into older boy's arms. Together, the two made themselves comfortable in Sam's bed, the only light in the room coming from the twinkling stars on Jimmy's large blanket. In other words, nothing, not even the ghost of George Kirk or the Grim Reaper could be seen (Sam felt a little relieved at not being able to see the latter of which).

"Tell me a story about Daddy," the little boy encouraged after a few minutes of utter silence. "Please Sammy."

"Only if you go to sleep after, agreed?" He could feel Jimmy's nod of agreement more than he could see it. "Well, Dad was a Lieutenant Commander when he got assigned to the USS _Kelvin_ for a six month star charting mission. It was during this first month of this very mission that he impressed the captain of the _Kelvin_. Captain Richard Robau was a stern but fair man. He didn't take failure well. Hence, when the current First Officer of the _Kelvin_ made a mistake costing the lives of one crewman and injuring three others, the captain did not take it well when the man tried to blame it on someone else. Neither did the person who the XO was-"

"Sammy, what does XO mean?" Jimmy interrupted, sleep evident in his voice yet he was still full awake. 

"XO is short for executive officers, who are the second-in-command and report to the CO, or commanding officer," Sam patiently explained to his brother.

"So a XO is the First Officer on a starship and a CO is the Captain?" the boy tried to clarify in his mind.

"You got it… Now, where was I," the older Kirk mumbled to himself.

"You had just got to the point where Commander Tahir was trying to frame me for Lieutenant Hemsworth's death and Ensigns Pine, Quinto, and Urban's injuries," the boys' father piped up from the direction of the desk chair only a few feet away.

"Ah, yes," Sam mumbled. "Anyways, the person who the First Officer was trying to frame didn't take kindly to being blamed. Especially since it was Dad. At the time, Dad was working down in engineering as the chief engineer and it was the First Officer's direct order that had the four engineers doing the unnecessary maintenance. Who had not sought out Dad to see what else was underway in the engine room, which was Commander Tahir, that's was the First Officer's name, mistake. Dad was working on the initial dampeners while the First Officer assigned a team to work on the dilithium chamber. The outcome was a minor explosion with major ramifications.

"Since Commander Tahir didn't believe he was responsible, he wrote Dad up on trumped up charges. And Dad didn't take it kindly. Dad fought the charges and didn't back down, because he didn't believe in no-win scenarios. In the end, Captain Robau sided with Dad and Commander Tahir was brought up on charges of fraud and dishonesty. When Starfleet found him guilty, Captain Robau needed a new XO and he knew exactly who he wanted. A man that didn't believe in no-win scenarios and would stand by his actions; he wanted Dad."

By the time Sam finished telling the story, Jimmy was fast asleep and the weariness of the day was catching up to him. He barely heard his father whispering words of sweet dreams as he dozed off. The next morning brought a healthier color to Jimmy's skin tone and the absences of the Grim Reaper. The latter of which had Sam smiling brighter than average smile.

* * *

This wasn't suppose to be in this story, but the idea just wouldn't leave me alone. Thus, this chapter, hope you all like. Thanks goes out to my two reviewers, Mikazuki Hime (once again) and AllOverInAus.

Riley Lee


	5. Grandmother Lilith's Grim

Eleven year old George Samuel Kirk Junior sat stiffly in his black suit next to his sobbing mother clad in her usually black funeral dress. This was actually the first time that he had actually seen his mother in a little over a week and the first time he could actually touch her in a little over three weeks. His mother had been working constantly for over a month and a half; or, at least that was what she had been telling him and his brother. However, when one Frank Bastes showed up on the Kirk family farm's doorstep a week ago, Sam didn't think that work was just where his mother had been. Especially not when the man was currently sitting on his mother's other side, trying to comfort the weeping woman.

On his other side sat his six year old brother in an old hand-me-down fade black suit…well, sat might not be the best word to describe Jimmy's fidgeting state. The little boy just couldn't sit still for long; if he did, than Sam knew there was a problem, a really big problem. The child was more interested in the multitude of butterflies hovering around a flowery bush and not on the minister preceding the funeral. Although, if Sam didn't know better–and he did know better–he would have thought Jimmy's eyes were not on the butterflies, but on the souls and spirits which lingered in the graveyard.

There were several Grim Reapers that stood surrounded by the black and green butterflies, patiently waiting for a number of souls to finalize their last moments on this plane of existence before moving on to the next plane. His grandmother stood next to his father, smothering her long dead son with affection she couldn't in the last six years. Neither one of the ghosts seemed to notice the Grim Reaper standing behind Grandma Lily, waiting for the end of the funeral to take the elder woman's soul–that was the agreement that the dead woman had made with the Grim Reaper only a week ago.

Sam would miss his grandmother, but she was going to be reunited with Grandpa Tiberius and everyone else she had lost over the years. She was one of the last of her friends and the last of her family; in short, there shouldn't have been a big funeral. However, with the fact that she was the mother of a war hero, there were vast numbers of high ranking Starfleet officers and reporters. (God, he hated reporters, they were idiots and were worse than a dog with a bone. Not to mention, they would never leave him alone on the anniversary of his father's death and they always seem to forget that it was also the day of Jimmy's birth.) Why any of them were even allowed to be there, he had no idea.

He had to endure the longer than necessary ceremony; it was time to pay respects before the coffin was lowered into the ground. His mother and her new _boyfriend_–because, really, what else could that man be?–were the first to approach the closed coffin. His mother and Frank only took enough time to lay down two roses before the man escorted the teary eyed woman off to the side. If Sam didn't know any better, he would have said that the whole scene had been preplanned for dramatic reasons. It was too cliché and seemingly done only to catch the reporters' attention. Judging by the way multiple holocameras going off, the effect was effective.

While the reporters attention was still on his mother and Frank, Sam took Jimmy by the hand and lead him to the coffin. Together, they placed twin origami lily flowers on the coffin and made their way away from prying eyes before any of the reporters could realize what they had missed. Little Jimmy immediately darted after the butterflies, not trying to catch them but just to chase after the delicate creatures. For the most part, watching his little brother was therapeutically if not entertaining. Sam didn't know how his brother did it, but he was able to hold onto his child innocence ever with being surrounded by countless deaths since the moment he was born.

"That's because he has you around to take care of him, kid." Sam about shot out of his skin, but just barely managed to keep himself from reacting.

"Why do you insist on trying to kill me?" the oldest Kirk sibling asked through gritted teeth. He really didn't know who this ghost was, only that the ghost died when he was a young man and he worked on the _Enterprise _NX-01 judging by the uniform he still wore and Sam's history knowledge. However, seeing how many people died during the Xindi Crisis, he wouldn't be surprised if the man died during the mission to save Earth. Sam's one question was why the hell he was _here_. Ever since he arrived at the graveyard and the man figured out he could see him, the ghost wouldn't leave him alone. "And what are you talking about?"

"You were talking out loud, kid," the ghost said nonchalantly, his eyes darting towards a group of Starfleet officers who were getting up to pay their respect to his grandmother.

Sam came to the comprehension the brunet was right; he had been talking about loud. "Huh, so I was. So what were you saying, Mister?"

"That brother of yours, if he's surrounded by as much death as you're implying, the only reason he's got to hold on to his childhood innocence is because of you. You keep him protected, and in doing so, you're letting him keep that innocence you're so worried about," the ghost replied, making himself comfortable at the base of one of many trees. His blue eyes tracking Jimmy as the boy bounced around with the butterflies. "Just like a big brother should do."

"It sounds like you've had experience," Sam nodded, holding himself from running over to help his brother up when he tripped over a raised root. The little boy didn't cry out in pain, instead his blue eyes were locked on the butterfly that landed on a blade of grass just a few inches before the boy's face. When he had determined his brother wasn't harmed, he sat down next to the unknown ghost.

"I did. Had a younger brother and a younger sister and was pretty much like you," Sam must have given the ghost some kind of a strange look, because the brunet laughed at him. "I did all I could to protect them."

"Oh…" the young boy said, not sure how to take the comment. He knew it was a complement, but he didn't know how to respond to the ghost. "Thank you?"

The ghost just chuckled and affectionately ruffled his hair very much like his father would do, the zephyr touch even felt the same. "No problem kid."

Together, the two sat next to each other, watching Jimmy as he played with the butterflies and the rest of the funeral attendees were paying their final respects to Grandma Lily. Sam noted all the reporters were held back, just taking pictures and scratching down notes on PADDs. He watched as the reporters swarmed over a Starfleet Admiral as he placed an old harmonica on top of the coffin and a Lieutenant (the man had made a point to introduced himself to his mother as Christopher Pike at the beginning of the funeral) place a miniature replica of the _Kelvin_ next to the musical instrument. After that there were more Starfleet officers and even a Vulcan woman came to pay her respects. None of them Sam knew and he doubted his grandmother really knew them that much–if at all–as well.

"Ah, there you are Junior," his dad's voice easily floated over the whispers of the morning crowd. "It's time for your grandmother to leave; time to say goodbye."

Giving the ghost a slightly apologetic, Sam stood up and turned towards the sound of his father's voice to see him and a happier Grandma Lily making their way towards them. The Grim Reaper was following only a few steps behind the white haired woman who was walking like only an agile young woman should be allowed to. The ghost seemed to be curious about the new arrivals and followed his movements, but stood just off to the side to watch.

"Grandma Lily! I'm going to miss you," the young Kirk spoke very low, wishing all the while he could hug his grandmother one last time. He tried his best not to let his emotions weep through his façade of calmness, yet a sliver of emotion stuttered through his weakly held up front.

"Oh, Goergie, I'm going to miss you too," Grandma Lily tried not to cry herself, enveloping her oldest grandchild into a zephyr hug. "I love you. I love both you and your brother. Always remember that."

"Love you Grandma Lily," Sam chocked out a sob, clenching and unclenching his fists at his side so he wouldn't try to hug his grandmother only to connect with nothing. He was eleven years old after all; he wasn't a baby anymore and shouldn't need hugs for reassurance. He was growing up to be a young man and real men didn't cry (at least that was what Aurelan Dinrenva had said).

"Tell dad I say hi. Love ya, Mom," his father reminded the woman when she pulled him in for a hug. Sam tried not to be envious of his father–the man couldn't touch much after all–but he couldn't help wanting to be the one hugging his grandmother.

"Love you too sweetie." With one last peck on the cheek, the two ghosts departed and it seemed like Grandma Lily was going to leave with her Grim Reaper.

A fact that was soon proven false when the brunet ghost, who had hung in the background and gone unnoticed up until this point, decided to speak up. "Take care Lilith."

Sam didn't know the ghost he had been chatting with knew his grandmother. From the look on her face, he didn't think she knew who he was. However, the wrinkles in his grandmother's brow soon changed from being bunched up to smoothing over as genuine excitement crossed her face.

"You're my Uncle Trip, right?" the enthusiasm in her voice was not lost in her question. The unknown ghost just nodded his head with a smile on his face as Grandma Lily continued on. "I didn't expect to meet you here, on this side. I thought you would have move on a long time ago."

"Naw," Trip (Sam had to admit, the man's name was weird, who named their child Trip?) slowly shook his head negatively, "there's still a few people down here that needs to be looked after. Until their time has come, I'll be staying here. Tell your Aunt Elizabeth and that father of yours when I cross over they better be there waiting to greet me. It'll just take some more time." The last part was added on as if it was an afterthought. He looked as if he was going to say more; nevertheless, he wasn't given the chance when Jimmy ran up to him, the colorful butterflies had seemingly lost their appeal to the small boy.

"Hey, Sammy?" the youngest Kirk asked in a low voice, almost unheard even as his eyes darted around, looking for something but not finding anything. Sam was slighting worried why his brother was acting so hesitant and looked around himself to see if he could see any reason for his brother's behavior. However, the only people who were even remotely close to them were the spirits who still lingered and the Grim Reaper.

"Yes Jimmy?" Sam asked, his eyes scanning the people remaining at the funeral, looking for what had caused the blond's distress. The boy's answer had him snapping his eyes back to stare straight into the rich blue color that he had become so familiar with over the years. Everything else just seemed to bleed away into background noise. 

"Before Grandma leaves, can you tell her I'll miss her too?"

Sam tried to get his mouth to work, but he just couldn't; the poor boy couldn't seem to get his mind to work. He wasn't the only one. George Kirk couldn't help but openly gawk at his youngest son, not once had the boy given _any_ indication he knew about ghosts. He couldn't count how many times he had touched Jimmy or just talked to him when Sam wasn't around, but the blond never seemed acknowledge his presence. He didn't have ESP like his brother…at least, George didn't think he did.

The oldest Kirk sibling tried his best to get his brain to work, to make his mouth communicate with his brain and say _something_. "Wha–?" was just the only thing he could manage to say at the moment.

"You can talk to ghost right?" little Jimmy said as if he was stating a proven fact. There was no doubt in his voice, yet he kept his voice low as he talked, his eyes darting around to make sure no one else was around and it was then Sam understood that his brother had known for some time he could see ghost. How the boy figured it out, he would have to ask later, but his brother seemed to understand his ESP was a secret and kept it to himself. "Can you tell Grandma, I love her and I'll miss her before she goes away for good?"

"She can hear you just fine Jimmy," Sam replied automatically, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact his brother knew he could see and talk to ghosts. "She says she loves you and will miss you too."

"Okay," the child said innocently, turning to Trip–which quickly disproved George's still formulating theory his youngest had slight ESP too–wave his hand in parting. "Bye-bye Grandma."

"Good bye." It was the final farewell for the Grim Reaper took her by the hand and slowly they faded from existence as the coffin containing an empty shell was lowered into the ground.

Lilith Elizabeth Kirk nee Tucker was buried and put to rest.

"So…you're my great-great-Uncle Tirp?"

"We have an Uncle who fell? I want to hear the story, please Sammy?"

The rest of the Tucker and Kirk family lines weren't so much put to rest as the remainder of their family members.

* * *

Thanks to all my reviewers, I actually had multiple. Reviews make me happy, and happy me wrote a longer than normal chapter. Although, it took longer than I would have liked, it was to thank all of those who reviewed last chapter.

On an additional note, I couldn't help but put in Star Trek: Enterprise's Trip. He reminded me of George Kirk Sr. (from 2009 movie) and I couldn't help but make them related somehow.

Riley Lee


	6. His Grim

When he awoke to the reoccurring crashing noise and cursing, Sam knew the day was going to be awful from then on. He didn't care what people said about starting off a new year on a bad foot, every year was a bad year since Winona had married Frank not even a month after Grandma Lily died. Then the woman had gone and got herself assigned a five year mission after his twelfth birthday and left them with the true man behind the façade he put up for Winona. Both he and Jimmy were left with the raging drunk that was Frank and when he had tried to tell his mother what the man she had married was really like over a comm, she brushed him off. That was the last time Sam thought of her as his mother.

Sam had believed–hoped–when he was sending the comm, that his mother who had loved him with all her heart and had been just as excited about Jimmy's conception was still buried deep inside of her. That the attack on the _Kelvin_ and his father's death was what had her slowly distancing herself from him. That the thought of losing little Jimmy after his difficult–nearly impossible–birth so soon after losing her husband had her refusing to love the child in fear that he might too die and her heartbreak would be all the more painful. That all of her absences and lack of interest would disappear and she would be his–their–mother once again; she would return from space to rescue the two of them from Frank. He had been _wrong_ and whenever she did come back to the _Kirk Family Farm_, she was only Winona to him.

Another crash and cussing fit, this time much closer, had Sam jerking back to awareness and looking momentarily for his antique clock before he remembered that Frank had broken it just last evening. The man had pretty much trashed everything in the house and if either Grandpa Tiberius or Grandma Lily saw the state of their farm now, they no doubtably would have been rewriting their wills and never leaving it in the care of Winona at their deaths. Sam had watched in horror as the man burned the handcrafted curtains Grandma Lily had made on his drunken frenzy in the farmhouse and had to endure watching many more.

"Dad," Sam called out softly to his father, knowing the spirit was never far, and winced slightly when the cut on his lip split open again. Thinking back to his previous thoughts, enduring Frank wasn't quick the word he should of used; he fought the bastard tooth and nail.

Even though he couldn't find his father in the darkness scattered through his room, he could easily hear the man's voice. "Yeah, Junior?"

"What time is it?" This time, while he was speaking, the teen made sure not to move his injured lip so much. He didn't want to deal with cleaning up the blood for a second time. Although, he might have too, Jimmy would freak out if there was too much blood yet again.

"Oh five hundred, give or take ten minutes." His father was always good at gauging the time, whether it was day or night; it was a good trick to have handy. A trick neither Sam nor Jimmy seemed to possess.

"Happy New Year," this time the voice was mumbled, rather sleepily Sam mentally noted, into his ear and accompanied by a low yawn. The weight on the bed shift as Jimmy tried to untangle the two of them from the nest of blankets on his bed. Jimmy's own twinkling star blanket was thrown on top of them, where the boy had placed it the night before when he sought out the sanctuary of Sam's room. Even if the ten year old hadn't come into his room last night, Sam would have gone and retrieved him. Holidays, ones without Winona present, were a bigger reason for Frank to get even drunker than normal and become even more violent. The sixteen year old was scared to see the state of the farmhouse with how much noise and cursing was going on last night–which was still going on now.

His father had thanked every deity, human and other, he could think of when the drunkard couldn't operate a simple old fashion style doorknob the night before and had left them alone. After spending an hour screaming outside the door, which had caused Jimmy to cling onto Sam for dear life, a gesture which wasn't atypical for normal scared kids, yet it was unusual for Jimmy. The blond had grown use to Frank's raging outburst and verbal abuse, which was a very bad sign Sam knew, but there wasn't anything he could really do about it. (He had tried, once, and he had wound up in the hospital for two weeks.) Instead, he had made sure his brother wasn't the target of the bastard's physical abuse and became that target himself.

"Happy New Year," Sam answered, watching his brother adjust the long-sleeved turtleneck he had worn to bed after all but tumbling off the side of the bed. He knew his brother didn't have a lot of clothes to pick from, just old hand-me-downs or the occasional garment bought from a thrift shop, but wearing a turtleneck and black and white checkered sweats to bed was weird. Then again, considering Frank's rage last night, Jimmy probably through on the first article of clothes he could find before coming to his room and since he was wearing black jean pants and an oddly patterned shirt, he couldn't say anything. "Dad says Happy New Year, too."

Out of the corner of his eyes, Sam saw his father nodding his gratitude and smile when Jimmy's face lit up in a bright smile of his own. A smile which soon faltered when another string of curses floated into the room and the sound of wood breaking forced a startled jump out of the blond. Sam's eyes narrowed as his brother form, even through the dark, he could make out something was wrong. The problem was, he couldn't figure out what was wrong. He tried to look harder, but all that accomplished was putting a strain on his eyes.

Setting the problem aside for now, Sam pulled out his older than dirt PADD and quickly drew up a tic-tac-toe board. Together, the two brothers spent the morning playing the simple game. Talking in low tones about whatever came to mind as Frank persisted on destroying downstairs. Every once in awhile, their father would play too, Sam drawing the X's or O's, depending what player he was, into the desired boxes. They continued as such until Frank had quieted down and they though he had finally passed out and could go down stairs without worry.

That had been the first mistake.

Jimmy had gone back to his room to change into some of his better clothing while Sam had gone downstairs to replicate them something to eat. The only problem was Frank hadn't passed out and when Sam had come downstairs, muttering about everything that was destroyed, Frank had lashed out verbally. The bastard was too drunk to fight, he was sober enough to realize that at least, but words could be sharper than anything tangible. Moreover, the asshole said something which he had never uttered before; and with only three days until the eleventh anniversary of his father's death, the snarky comment hit that much closer to home. It took all of his father's pleading to discourage him enough not attack the man before him. He had had enough; Sam decided he had to leave then.

That had been the second mistake.

Not thinking about anything else, except for get out of the house–_getting away from Frank_–Sam had stormed back up to his room and grabbed his school bag. He didn't think twice as he dumped out his school supplies and began cramming it full of anything essential he would need. The little credits he had saved up from doing odd jobs for some of his classmate were shoved ruthlessly into his pocket. Sam made a point in ignoring his father's futile attempts at talking him out of leaving, but he had to go. He couldn't stay here a minute longer.

Sam did his best to ignore the drunkard as he stormed passed him, but the man's words still fluttered in his ears. "Big man, huh? Go, then! Run away! You know I could give damn! Your mother will be proud I got rid of you! You're a delinquent! A nobody! Just like your father!"

The last part had Sam snorting more in amusement. If the man thought he was just like his father, he wouldn't be a nobody, and all things considered, it was the nicest thing Frank had ever said to him. He was just walking down the drive, when the sound of running footsteps had him tensing up, momentarily thinking that the drunk was coming after him. However, the constant rhythm of the footsteps and their lightness dissuade of the thought. Even before his brother said anything, he knew it was Jimmy.

"Sammy, where are you going?" the faint whisper of the blond's voice almost had Sam reconsidering his split second decision. Almost.

Sighing, the oldest Kirk ran a hand through his hair and turned to face his baby brother. The kid looked so small, too small, in his old brown pants and leather jacket; the high neck of the dark blue shirt he wore underneath the jacket made Jimmy's blue, teary eyes stand out even more.

"I'm going away, Jimmy, far away. As far as I can get from _Frank_," the name was spit out with as much distaste as he could manage. "I can't live here anymore, neither of _us_ can't be a _Kirk_ in this house. In the _Kirk Family Farm!_ I can't stand it, I need to leave. You understand that, right Jimmy?"

Sam couldn't possible comprehend why he asked the question himself, but he had a feeling, if his brother said no, had asked him to stay, he would have. Instead, the boy just nodded his head in understanding, leaving his head looking down when he was finished so Sam wouldn't see his tears. However, the small hiccups coming from the boy were enough for him to know his brother was crying and without thinking, he pulled Jimmy into a tight hug.

"I promise you. I swear to every deity every known that I will come back for you Jimmy. I won't leave you with _him_, I'll come back when I've got a place for ourselves. A place where there is no _Frank_, a place for us to be _Kirks_," the shear determinate to make his plans reality struck Sam harder when he voiced them out loud for the first time and his determination only increased. "But, Jimmy, you've got to promise me, until then, keep your head low and stay out of the bastard's way. Can you do that for me Jimmy? Can you promise me?"

He could feel, more than see his brother nod his head yes as his little hands just pulled him tighter into their hug. Sam had believed him. He believed that Jimmy would stay out of Frank's way, but he underestimated the drunk's ability to hurt people more than any tangible blow could. Sam had left believing his brother was safe.

That had been the third mistake and final mistake.

"Are you sure about this Junior?" his father asked for what seemed like the millionth time, but was infract only the third time.

"Yes Dad, I'm sure. I've thought of doing this for a long time, I've just never mentioned anything," Sam said exasperated. He didn't want to say anything to his father, but his choice was not sitting well with him. Something was bothering him, and he couldn't shake the feeling. "I've done some research, the Riverside Shipyard has been commissioned to build the newest flagship of the `Fleet and they're having a mass hiring for welders, drivers, and a number of odd jobs they need filled. I could apply and, not to count my chickens before they hatch or anything, within four months I'll have enough credits to get a large enough apartment for me and Jimmy. In that time, I can sleep at the shipyard or stay at old Henry's house, he did offer."

"What about school?"

"What about it?" Sam asked, he had tried to avoid the question; however, he knew it would come up eventually and it did. "Dad, I know you think education is important and I would love to go on with my education, but I _can't_. I can't leave Jimmy with Frank any longer than I have to. And to do that, I need a job, a full time job."

George Samuel Kirk Sr., was going to go on with their conversation, there was still so much Sam could do instead of giving up his education, but the accumulation of the day's mistakes had finally caught up to him. Literally. He heard the cherry red `65 Chevy Corvette convertible tearing down the rocky dirt road long before he saw the car. He barely caught a glimpse of the blond mop of hair barely peaking over the steering wheel before the car and its driver were gone.

Millions of thoughts pounded through his head in only a few seconds. He considered all possible outcomes, but the sinking feeling in his stomach had him running back the way he came. At one point, Sam didn't know when, he all but ordered his father to follow Jimmy, to watch over him. He didn't know what had set his brother off, but whatever it was, had gotten him over his head. Frank would have a reason to target Jimmy, exactly what Sam didn't want.

It was at this moment, unknown to him, that there was a flicker in the air as a Grim Reaper started to appear. His Grim Reaper.

* * *

I am currently hiding. Why? Because I really don't want to write the next part, but I have to. It's the final chapter, and then I'll have to work on the next in the Grim!verse. Sadly, I'm having problems with coming up with ideas there.

Riley Lee


	7. His Brother's Guardian Angel

His body aches all over and there is a ringing sound in his ears. Sam knew that he needs to wake up, that he needs to get up, that there is something important he has to do, but he cannot bring himself to remember what that _thing_ is. Instead, he lets himself drift back into the wonderful blackness. A bleak blackness where there is no pain and no ringing noises to disturb his sleep. The next time he wakes is to the zephyr touches that he has come to associate with his ghostly father's hand. A hand that his brain tells him is way too boney to be his father, something that only confuses him even more. As far as he could tell, zephyr touches all felt the same, no matter what ghost touches him, so how could this one feel boney? The second thing he notices is the ringing has stopped and he can faintly hear someone, not his father, yelling at him to get up, but he doesn't want to. There is only pain in the light; in the darkness, there is only nothing.

The third time he awakes, his father isn't there and he wonders if his father was ever there. He was supposed be watching over Jimmy, because…Sam couldn't stop his mind from screaming at him, pounding to a rhythm of pain he couldn't identify before blacking out again. This time, unlike the other times, he dreams. He dreams of the hard punches and kicks a nameless faceless assailant dealt him. He could hear muffled curses which his battered mind couldn't comprehend above the pain, yet, what confused him the most was the fear. Fear not for himself, but for someone else.

In his dream, he saw a tiny, fragile little star flickering just beyond the faceless assailant. The little thing looked so out of place surrounded by the destroyed house and the blood flecked wall–blood that was supposed to be inside him, he figured–but when he yelled at it to go. To leave and save the tiny little innocence it held, the little star actually moved towards him. It wanted to help him he realized; however, he knew –not that he knew _how_ he _knew_–that if the little light came any closer, it too would be a target of the faceless abuser. He couldn't let that happen…he had to save the little star, his little star, his little Jimmy.

The singular thought had Sam propelled him out of his dreams and into consciences, a consciousness which only brought him pain. However, he didn't care about the pain and used all of his will power to push it to the back of his mind, which still felt like a jagged throbbing sensation despite his efforts. Sam really did not care, not as he frantically looked around the room–the basement–for his brother, yet all that was visible was darkness. So when he felt the boney zephyr touch brushed up against his shoulder, he almost came out of his battered skin. The jarring motion caused some of the small wounds which had already clotted over to break open once again.

Sam whimpered out his pain, wishing he could scream but his throat hurt too much to accomplish such a feat. He vaguely remembered the large hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him to his feet for another round, but only pieces of the actual torture came through his foggy mind. Not that he actually wanted to remember how he received each and every single one of his injuries. His whole body ached and in the dim lighting, he couldn't make out most of the injuries to even begin to assess his own well being.

Hell, the teen could barely make out the ghostly figure kneeling next to him in the darkness. At first look, Sam almost swore he saw the figure shimmer, but that could have been from the vertigo which grabbed hold of his body at the very same moment. He almost felt like throwing up what little he had in his stomach, but barely managed to keep his last meal inside him. Sam had no doubt if he had thrown up, he would only hurt his throat even more. When he had at least pushed some of the pain away and could open his eyes without getting dizzy, Sam looked over to his ghostly companion.

"Uncle Trip? What are you doing here?" Sam barely recognized his own raspy voice which came out no higher than a whisper.

The familiar blue eyes seemed to look into his very soul with such intensity, it almost scared Sam. The softness and familiarity of those same eyes also put him at ease. This was his great-uncle, a few times removed, he shouldn't have to feel afraid of him and he didn't. The feeling that he _should_ feel afraid was just a distant thought in the back of his hazy mind.

"It's okay little one, just rest. I'm here to watch over you," the ghostly form of Trip spoke soothingly. His boney zephyr touch, gently pushed Sam back down onto the cold ground. The pain in Sam's body slightly receding at the soft zephyr touches which began lured his body into blissful unconsciousness. "Just sleep."

"But, Jimmy…" Sam tried to say, yet the peaceful temptation of sleep was taking its hold.

"He's alive, don't worry little one," the enticing voice of Trip hushed his concerns as boney zephyr touch soothed the aches from his battered body.

Before he fell asleep once again, the young teen's murky mind final understood why he should feel afraid. He was dying.

"You're not…," Sam had to take a large breath before he could continue as his body shuddered underneath him, "…`Rip. You're…a…" Without finishing his last words out of his mouth, the oldest Kirk fell into a painless sleep; barely clinging to life.

Sam doesn't know how much time has passed since he last woke up and he was slightly surprised he wasn't dead. However, upon his conscious mind taking over, he realized he was not alone. His father's ghostly form was hovering on the other side of Uncle Trip's kneeling form, desperately trying to touch him; trying to save his oldest son, but his zephyr touches had no effect. It takes him a little while to apprehend the fact his head was pillowed in someone's lap and when his hazel eyes meet the eyes of his brother's, he can't help but become overcome with some relief. Even as Jimmy weeps over his failing body, Sam can't help but feel the relief that his brother hasn't been beaten. His little star isn't in trouble of going supernova. He still has years to live.

"It's okay Jimmy…" Sam whispers, reaching up his hand weakly to cradle his baby brother's tear stained face. "You're safe…"

"Sammy…don't leave me," Jimmy cried, realizing that he was dying. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry… I promise to be good from now on…"

His father's always sure and steady voice was shaky and scratchy, as if he was holding back sobs. "Junior, hang on. Come on Junior, it's not your time to go yet. You're too young. You cannot die, you cannot join me yet, you're too damn young."

For awhile the two voices overlap and he couldn't tell who was talking or saying what, his head was swimming in and out of the bleak blackness. It's Jimmy's voice that gets through to him once again, bringing him back from the edge.

"SAMMY!" his brother's voice yelled, for what reason Sam didn't understand, but he could hear the panic and hysteria starting to creep into Jimmy's voice.

"Don't worry, Jimmy, I'll always be with you. I promise." Those were the last words of George Samuel Kirk Junior, as his soul left his body. However, his Grim Reaper, shedding his façade of being his uncle, wouldn't be taking him anywhere. Not for a long time. He was going to stay by his father's side and keep his promise to Jimmy. He was not going anywhere.

* * *

Sorry, I was in a Nitequill induced a coma for a while, than I had to play catch up for the last week. Hopefully I won't want to go back into said a coma after you all finish reading this. For those of you who hadn't read _His Own Grim _first, it is so not my fault, Sam had to die. Sadness all around.

Well, it look's like Jimmy's Story is now done for the Grim!verse. I guess I'll go star working on James' Story...although, it'll be awhile before that's out. I hope ya'll read it when it comes out! Thanks to everyone who has stayed with the story and reviewed!

Riley Lee


End file.
